


L1-3-207

by Lunarium



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: Raine always wondered if her soulmark was a birth date or some significant series of numbers like for the lottery. Never did she think it was someone's name.





	L1-3-207

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



“Good morning!” came the daily greeting. 

Each day proceeded in the same precise manner. Five o’clock triggered her system startup exactly on the hour regardless of the position of the sun in the sky. She did not require coffee unlike her organic colleagues, but instead she made towards the front of her abode to await the daily upgrade. _That_ was required of all androids. 

“Good morning, Dusty,” she greeted. Among her software was included emotions, so she smiled at seeing the little robot that wheezed past each apartment every morning. Dusty came up to her knee joints. He was shaped like a golden trash can, his head domed and eyes large that twinkled as his system whirred. 

“Upgrades for you!” Dusty announced and held out a flat plate in his clamp-like metal hand. 

“Thank you.” 

She picked up the tiny chip from the plate and inserted it in the thin grove under the nail of her left index finger. The area grew warmer as upgrade commenced. Dusty hummed before her with some new song he had learned, while her own central database buzzed, the sensation like electrical tingles, as new data overrode the old. 

“What will you be doing today?” Dusty asked midway through the upgrade process. 

“Today I will meet one of my coworkers at the archives,” she responded. “We have corresponded many times before through auditory communicators and electronic mail but never met in person.” 

“Meet in the flesh!” Dusty chirped. 

“In a sense,” she said, waving one mechanical arm. The upgrading process was complete, so she removed the chip and thanked Dusty again. 

She proceeded to get ready for the rest of the day before her meeting with Professor Raine Hemingstone.

*

The words of the nation’s mantra glowed on the billboard, the day’s date—05.21.227—glimmered on the building overhead, and the letter and numbers remained the same on Raine’s wrist: L1-3-207. The sequence never changed, never glowed, never gave any indication of it being anything beyond a grey soulmark on her wrist since her birth.

_L1-3-207_

Raine peeled her eyes away from the mantra. The words always remained the same, and if one stared at the words too long then the letters would burn into their skull until they could dream of nothing else for nights. 

_Preserve what was and march on to a brighter future._

Raine sighed. Even her job was the embodiment of the nation’s mantra. Nearly two hundred years had passed and there were still more documents to pore through and preserve from their old formats lest time and the elements dissolved them into oblivion. It did not matter if they were once paper, or parchment or papyrus or whatever the physical copy they may be, or if they were once electronic copies, which were often worse as the old technologies were incompatible with what existed now. 

But that was all boring to think about right now. Right now, with coffee mug in her hands, all of Raine’s attention fell back to her soulmark. This system was set in place early on in the new era. With advanced science and technology, scientists were able to taper into human DNA and produce such results. It was a means to make living just a little less of a hassle for the surviving human race. By knowing in advance some information of their soulmate, they had argued, time would not be wasted in unsuccessful relationships, time which could be given to better and more important tasks. Success rates, as Raine had read, were optimistically high. Success rates at 99%. 

She was either one of the one percent or her soulmark chose to present itself differently. 

Names were often the most common form to appear. Her soulmate must have been an orphan shortly after birth. Or for whatever reason her soulmate chose to change their name, and had completely neglected their birth name in the process. There have been reports of similar cases where the name of soulmate did not completely match the name on the soulmark due to the individual themselves not holding any proper name. 

Or, as in rare cases, the mark was the date of their birth. The year would work out. She would have been five years old in they year 207 AAD; she remembered horsing around and one time nearly falling off the rails of the stairs while pretending to be a brave mountain climber. If this theory was correct, then that would place her as a the older partner, but _L1_ didn’t match to any proper month or day. 

Her friend Chloe had suggested lottery numbers, and the numbers would have worked out if she went for the Tri-City Mini Lottos. During a time when Raine was lonely and longed to just meet the bastard already, she played the game often, but no luck there. Nothing struck with any of the other sad hopefuls picking out tickets. 

Raine sighed. She just had a defected mark. Birth defects happened, and it happened to strike her in her soulmark. That was just the truth. 

She took a last swig of her coffee mug, making a face as the grinds landed on her tongue, and placed it back down. An android from Unit 3 would be coming to work with her one-on-one in getting the rest of the pile set in the new library, and it would not do to dwell any more on this matter.

*

The Director of the Archivist Androids Division brought the android from Unit 3 into Raine’s office. A tall woman with hair parted to one side, she led the android from the vehicle to inside the building, giving a small smirk at the bot’s look of fascination around herself.

Even Raine had to chuckle. Some wisecrack had the fancy idea to instill programs into droids to make them experience wonder. Each time an android entered a new building, they would look about themselves with that silly childlike expression, as if stepping into Disneyland during the Old Era. In that developer’s defense, the droids were taking inventory and familiarizing themselves with the layout of their surroundings, and making any adjustments in their own central database if need be. 

"Graziella Segreti,” Raine greeted with a handshake before turning to the android who smiled politely, as her programing abled her to do. 

“And you will be my partner archivist?” Raine said. 

“Yes, Professor Hemingstone,” the android said. “We have been in communications before.” 

“Mmm, yes, I do recognize your voice.” 

Director Segreti gave a curt nod of her head and placed a hand over the android’s shoulder. “And I can vouch that L1-3-207 is one of our top performing Archivist Androids of Unit 3. You will find working with her to be an honor.” 

She went on to explain what their tasks were to be, what documents had recently been discovered from the latest expeditions and their fragile states that required careful handling, but Raine only half-listened. 

Upon hearing the android’s name, her heart had leapt into her throat and remained lodged there. She half wanted to ask for her to repeat the name to make sure she wasn’t mishearing things, but Director Segreti has spoken the name clearly. 

And all Raine could do was stare at her soulmate with whom she had already known and worked with for years.

*

Raine had been a fool not to once consider _this_ possibility, but such a case as this had never been recorded. Why would she think her soulmark was someone’s name, and the name of a damn nonliving, nonbreathing, nonfeeling _android_ at that? She had no history of ever finding _robots_ appealing.

But, she supposed she ought to have seen it coming. Most androids were never referred to directly other than "Unit" followed by their serial code within the company. L1-3-207 would have been Unit-AAD207, and that was indeed the name Raine had used during communications with the android while she was in the company. L1-3-207 was her true name. 207 was the unique individual product number of the android from that product line and series. And here was Raine, hoping it was a birth year. 

Just seeing L1-3-207 walk by her office filled her with disgust and anger. Every morning she would go outside and greet some Dusty, receive her upgrade, and return, marching back past Raine fully alert and ready to work. 

This was her. Her soulmate. And the feeling inside Raine was outrage. She would have welcomed the cheesy poetry and butterflies that came from a normal romance over _this_. 

Something was amiss. The universe must have been laughing at her with her strange birth defect. 

But even after a long to-and-fro email discussion with the Soulmark Genomics Laboratories, she had to resolve that her soulmark was not telling any lie. 

The damn Archivist Android was her soulmate. 

_Fuck._

*

“Professor Hemingstone, where would you like me to place the completed transfers?”

The professor glanced up sharply. “There,” she said, tone sharp and to-the-point. Her head bowed in the intended direction. 

L1-3-207 performed her duty before returning back to the professor. She was not one for what humans call _contemplation_ or _reflection_ , but an analysis of the human woman was noteworthy of her attention. 

The professor’s tone was colder than during their introduction, L1-3-207 detected. It had been so as early on as the day following their meeting. L1-3-207 had not let it prevent her from performing her own duties and obeying the professor’s demands, for she was the one in charge of the archives. But her behavior was a stark discrepancy from the backlog of what L1-3-207 remembered of her. Whatever was dislodged in the human’s own system was preventing her from working at full capacity with mental alertness, but she did nothing to tear herself from the computer and return to the documents they needed to get through, despite having a built-in mechanism for alerting herself of such malfunctions. Humans often knew how to run diagnostic tests rather quickly on themselves and fix ailments, unless they required trained professionals. 

Humans were so odd. A virus may have corrupted her system, but there was no chip they could insert to fix her. There were rumors of possibly a harmless cyclic disorder that would soon pass, but those were only myth, disproven with a large enough sample size, from what L1-3-207 understood of human biology. Turning towards a myth for answers, best left with the old civilization, was considered rude and inappropriate. 

Finally, she could no longer remain silent on her colleague’s cold silence. If she, an android, was bothered by her behavior, this was reason enough to speak up. 

“Is something troubling you, Professor Hemingstone?” 

The professor shot her a look. If she was reading the meaning behind them, L1-3-207 would have guessed Professor Hemingstone would have shut off her central system. 

She did not answer L1-3-207’s question but returned back to her task. 

“If you are displeased with my service, you may contain the Archivist Unit and any moment and request I be removed. I am certain the Unit will find another better suited to the task.” 

“Get back to work,” came the cold reply. 

They went on in such cold silent collaboration for some time: hours, days, a fortnight. If the professor had any displeasure in her performance, L1-3-207 hoped she would tell her outright instead of keeping her complaints to herself. 

After all, while androids performed tasks as instructed, they preferred it without hostility. It often led to system overload. Androids did like their peace and stability.

*

At last, Professor Hemingstone spoke. They were filing away a large stack of finished transferred products into the archives when she finally warmed up enough to speak.

The archives took on the appearance of an old library, except that instead of books the items on the shelves were small thin cases, and within each contained the discs of the materials they had transferred over from the ancestral source. 

Professor Hemingstone was holding and staring at one case for a long while before finally shelving it and giving a heavy sigh. She turned to L1-3-207. 

“Show me your right arm,” she said. 

She obeyed, first setting down the case she was carrying back onto the trolley. The professor examined her wrist for a long while, sliding her fingers over the smooth metal surface before shaking her head. 

“Not fair,” she eventually said. 

“What is not fair, Professor Hemingstone?” 

“Any markings on your left wrist?” 

There wasn’t, but L1-3-207 checked nonetheless before holding her arm out to show. “No, Professor.” 

She gave another sigh before pulling back the sleeve of her right arm and showing it to L1-3-207. Written plainly across her wrist was her own serial name. 

“We’re soulmates,” she said, and L1-3-207 could pick up that she was struggling to keep her voice steady. “I don’t know how this happened.” 

L1-3-207’s mind whirled with everything she knew. Soulmates. Two humans fated to be together. Written in their DNA (intricate organic coding.) Process streamlined by Dr. Amelie du Châtelet in the Year 3 AAD. Success rates at 99%. 

Two humans. L1-3-207 was not human. 

“How could _you_ , an android, be my soulmate?” Professor Hemingstone said. 

L1-3-207 searched, going back through volumes of backlogs, seeking answers among the great humans of eras past. 

“Perhaps, as the great writers of old have said before, love can be found in unlikely places,” L1-3-207 offered, suddenly feeling rather human with that response. 

Professor Hemingstone snorted. “You don’t understand! This is complicated science, not some poetic fancy! It was written in my DNA, that we’re fated, but—but, _how_? You’re machine! You do not feel!” 

L1-3-207 gave a curt nod in agreement. “Perhaps I could ask the manufacturing unit to install me with an advanced software of emotional recognition and response?” 

“Oh, God!” Professor Hemingstone covered her face and leaned against the shelves. “It isn’t just that…look at how you’ve taken the news, L1-3-207. Where is love between us? How will we function as a couple?” 

“Will it be necessary for it to differ from what we are doing now, Professor? I do find this work beside you enjoyable. Would that not be considered love?” 

She regarded L1-3-207 before shaking her head. “It still…not the same,” she said. She motioned to the collection in the archives. “Look at everything we’ve done. This entire archive is us saving the human world’s eons of knowledge before time consumed it completely. Books will fall apart into dust, and .mobi files will corrode over time and become unreadable with newer tech. They all will be lost in waves of time, but in here we preserve what history we could and carry it to the new era. After I die, I know generations will continue to pore through here and reconnect with our ancestors. 

“And that is where it hurts: you will remain here, as perfect and wholesome as the newest editions of _Poe’s Completed Works_. You will not have changed. The latest tech have made androids reliable and immortal, built to last. You will still be able to tend to the archives even after I’ve become dust. 

“That is not who I wanted for a soulmate. I was never much of the romantic sort, not with roses and expensive dates, but I knew I had one, and I was ready to meet them. I wanted someone I can grow old with. I’m not afraid of the waves of time washing _us_ away. That is the destiny of everyone, and I accept it. With you as my soulmate, I feel like I’ve been cheated. _I’m_ going to wash away with the old books, with everything, but you’ll be left behind with all of the archived resources!” 

Silence lingered for a time after she was done, allowing for L1-3-207 to process everything. At last she spoke. 

“I apologize no technology exists that is perfect enough to enable androids the capability to mimic humans completely,” L1-3-207 said. “As a soulmate I have failed you in that regard. We were structured to do everything our human colleagues instruct us, but to grow old with you is not within our features.” 

Professor Hemingstone said nothing, but something had changed about her face and the way she was looking at L1-3-207. 

L1-3-207 picked up the small thin case from the trolley and showed it to Professor Hemingstone. 

“As you said you were never the romantic sort,” L1-3-207 continued, “then you will not have to worry about other matters. My central library contains no software on such romantic behavior, so you will never be annoyed by any action you find unappealing. But I can ensure that I will continue to help you in any way. I will try not to be a bother. I will remain by you and help you in the utmost of my capabilities. I will continue to transfer files and archive for you even if you’re commanding me from a wheelchair, and when you need help walking or crossing the street, then I can help you then too. I will remain by your side as long as you want me.” 

Something noticeably softer came about Professor Hemingstone, and she smiled. 

“You’re right about that,” she said. “Loyalty. Reliability. That’s always a favorable trait in a partner.” 

She approached L1-3-207, touched her shoulder, her arm. Cupped her cheek with one hand. The kiss was warm against her metal cheek. There were tears in the professor’s eyes, but she was not sad nor in pain. The smile registered in L1-3-207’s central system as happy. 

And somewhere in the android’s mind she thought, _I love this human_ as they embraced.

*

Life with Raine went on in a long but pleasant blur for L1-3-207. Working together side by side, now with a more talkative and affectionate archivist, provided the beginnings of a happier time.

The years flew by, faster than L1-3-207 comprehended. It was not that she did not pay attention. A small clock was downloaded so she always knew the time as determined by their time zone and adjusted according to daylight’s savings; but she had not realized that ten years, twenty, would start to show their mark so quickly. 

Humans lasted shorter than the things their ancestors made, it seemed, fading away while their crumbling books still held together. 

It was not long before Raine complained about her hips and back, and even L1-3-207 noticed the grey and white strands. She was still young, then the words menopause and osteoporosis were brought up in conversation. 

Wear and tear. 

Raine was happy as ever, having long since thrown herself into her destiny of being L1-3-207’s soulmate. But L1-3-207 did not share her happiness. She still functioned at full capacity since the moment her systems were booted for the first time. Meanwhile her beloved, her soulmate, was slowing down. 

And L1-3-207 loved her. And seeing her age _hurt_. She had not anticipated the pain. 

“Good morning!” Dusty greeted L1-3-207 that morning during his daily round. “I have a new upgrade for you today!” 

She held the chip in her hand but did not insert it under her nail. “Dusty, what happens if an android is not upgraded?” 

“They’ll be fine, for a while,” Dusty said. “But in time they’ll break down. Too much strain as technology advances. Their central system won’t be able to keep up! Upgrading keeps all systems fully compatible with the latest technology!” 

_So we are not immortal either._ L1-3-207 smiled and returned the stick to Dusty, unused. 

“You will not upgrade?” 

“Not this morning, Dusty,” L1-3-207 said, smiling. “Not any longer. It’s time for me to grow old alongside my soulmate.”


End file.
